


Darling, You're My Angel

by AndreaLyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Wings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe's one of the best guardian angels out there. He's charming, kind, and genuinely cares. He's also never broken the unspoken rule of falling in love with his charge. That changes when he gets a new assignment and a single stormtrooper threatens to ruin his good record.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling, You're My Angel

**Author's Note:**

> For giidas, because really, this exists because of you.

At four thousand years old, Poe’s starting to develop wrinkles. At least, he’s begun to allow his human vessel to.

His fellow angels blame it on his humanist leanings, made worse by his preference to live among them in different familial arrangements in the middle of his assignments. He’s not the only one who does it. There’s a whole subset of angels who prefer to rub elbows with the humans to see what they’re protecting and why it all matters. Poe’s mentor (and personal hero) just happens to be one of them. She’s also his boss, with leagues more experience than him (which also means more years), but Poe’s an obedient subordinate and smart enough to know that you don’t say anything about an angel’s age.

It’s especially a good idea to keep quiet when they control your work assignments.

He stares in the mirror at his wrinkles and sighs, wondering if he’s vain enough to reverse the ageing down to a younger age. Even though he can do that, there’s a kind of pride in allowing the wrinkles to stay. If nothing else, it’ll stop the vain jokes – for a while. Besides, he’s not ready to give up this vessel yet; he _really_ likes the hair on this one. 

Wrinkles can wait, though. Right now, Poe has an assignment to focus on.

“If you’re ready to pay attention?” Poe gives her a sheepish look and sets down the looking glass, knowing she doesn’t really mind his lack of attention. “Be careful with this one,” Leia warns him when she hands over the file, distracting him from the worries about his face. “She’s got a tendency to fall in love.”

The unspoken ‘and you’re very easy to fall in love with’ rests between them.

“I’m a professional, ma’am,” Poe protests for his honor’s sake. He takes the file and heads off to meet his newest charge, eager to work and only ever thinking about his wrinkles for roughly five minutes a day.

She does fall in love with him, but Poe gently puts her off so she can do what she’s been meant to. She helps lead her small tribe towards victory over an invading group and ends up in charge of her small colony. They prosper in wealth and happiness, all under her steady governing hand.

Decades later, when she’s older and Poe hasn’t changed, he holds her hand as she moves from one life to the next. She still looks at him with all the love she’d possessed when she’d first met him, but Poe is only there to do his job. He kisses her knuckles one last time and sends her off into the afterlife.

With his assignment complete, he heads back to Leia to give his report. There’s no commendation for this one because even though he’s done a fine job, Poe thinks maybe Leia knows about the time that Poe hadn’t been _that_ quick to rebuff his charge’s advances and one or two nights of indiscretion may have taken place.

(Poe has a habit of bending the rules, but at least he’s never fallen in love and really broken them).

“Take some time off,” Leia recommends. “Command wants you to travel a while and then we’ll get you outfitted with a new charge.”

Poe’s not very good with lying low, especially when it means he hasn’t got a mortal family to live with in order to ingratiate himself in that era. Still, he supposes if he’s being asked to broaden his horizons, it’s for a reason. Besides, he hasn’t taken a vacation in something like three centuries and he’s probably owed the time.

He packs up his life in a single bag, taking off to travel. Even though he hasn’t got a group that he calls a family, Poe revels in meeting as many people as he can, learning about their cultures and their languages, all the while picking up on new shades of the complexity of humanity.

As lifetimes pass and he travels to the farthest reaches of the world, Poe starts to notice a man that keeps turning up decade after decade, century after century. Poe never gets more than a glimpse of him, but every time he does, he feels it in his grace that this man is _important_ , beyond his handsome face and the kindness he exhibits. Sometimes he sees a portrait of him hanging in a museum, other times it’s him on a television. Once, he’d bumped into him, but they’d both been pulled in opposing directions before Poe could ask for a name.

He’s seen him a hundred times and he never changes. His jaw line is strong and perfect, his skin smooth and begging to be touched, and Poe’s a sucker for the hedonistic ways of humanity, but he thinks if the other angels could run their fingers through his stranger’s hair, they’d understand why.

Reincarnation is a rare thing, usually only given to souls that haven’t managed to get it exactly right. That, or upstairs thinks their talents will be better suited for something more important in the future. With the number of times Poe’s seen his handsome stranger, he has to wonder what’s in store for him because if he’s gone around the block this many times, it must be something _big_.

He doesn’t have forever to focus on it, though, because Leia keeps him plenty busy the minute he gets back. Apparently, ‘finding yourself’ is code for ‘get ready to work steadily for the next thousand years’.

At this rate, he’s definitely going to end up wearing out his vessel.

* * *

Shara Bey is his first assignment in a very long time where he kriffs it up badly.

He’s meant to protect her and for years and years, he does exactly that. He makes sure that while she flies her most dangerous missions, she’s alert and aware of all the threats. It’s going so well that Poe starts to relax a little too much and that’s when the unthinkable happens. One day, he isn’t paying close enough attention and no matter how much he wishes, Poe can’t go back in time and stop the other ship from shooting her down, landing a lucky shot right beside her heart that robs her of her life’s essence.

Poe holds her while she lets out her last breath, staring at him tenderly and cupping his cheek. He’s not the son they were never able to have, but Poe likes to think that he’d been able to offer some kind of familial love and affection.

He could go back to Leia and give his report, but he feels indebted to Kes. He wants to be the one to go back to Yavin 4 and deliver the news.

“I’m so sorry,” Poe says, trying to comfort the man through the worst news he’ll likely ever have to hear. Poe should’ve watched her carefully, _more_ carefully, because he’s supposed to have been her guardian angel. She should still be here with them, but she isn’t.

Poe cradles Kes as the man lets his grief loose. The awful wracking sobs are something that Poe feels to his very core and it’s bad moments like this that ground him back to humanity and remind him that even though he’s a guardian angel, he’s doing this for them. He’s supposed to be watching out for them to prevent heartbreak like this.

It’s a harsh wake-up call, but one that he’s been needing after getting a little too distant and leading him to rookie mistakes like giving Shara too much space and not protecting her enough. He takes Kes Dameron’s last name and stays with the man for as long as Poe feels it’s necessary, but mending broken hearts isn’t his actual job.

Eventually, his time with Kes is going to run out.

That time comes when he gets a call from Leia, who’s working as a General recently. She’s trying to use her resources and connections to find where her latest project her gone – a man named Luke Skywalker that she talks about like family – and she needs Poe’s help to find him.

“Kes, I’m afraid I have to go,” he says, when he’s all packed up. 

It’s been over twenty years since Shara died. For an immortal like Poe, that time is like a drop in the bucket, but he sees how the years wear on a mortal being like Kes.

“Duty calls?”

“I’m afraid so,” Poe confirms, though he’s having second thoughts about leaving. He’s definitely lingered here too long. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay if I go?” 

“I’ll be lonely and there’ll be days when I miss Shara more than I can stand to bear, but I’ll be fine. It’s the cost of falling in love,” he admits. “All this pain is worth it when I think about all the happiness we had. Have you ever fallen in love?”

“No,” Poe replies. He doesn’t want to get into the historical examples of the not-so-shocking tales of how things tend to turn badly when an angel falls in love with a mortal. Usually, it goes badly right around the time the angel refuses to give up their immortality. “I suppose I haven’t found the right person. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of fun,” he says with a charming grin and a wink.

“Are you looking to fall in love?” As usual, Kes ignores all the charm that Poe works so hard to exude. It’s like he doesn’t even care about Poe’s self-esteem. 

So if it’s not charm that wins, he’ll go with earnest honesty. That seems to have always resonated with the Dameron-Beys. “I don’t know that I am. If it happens, though, I can’t say that I’ll be upset.” It’s just one more thing humans get to experience with full abandon that angels miss out on and truth be told, there’s a part of Poe that wants, so badly, to shirk the rules and do exactly that – fall in love and make mistakes and learn what it’s like to feel the highest heights and the deepest of grief, all because of a single person.

It’s a shame that it’s not as easy as flipping a switch to fall in love. If it were, he could’ve picked from any of his dozens of conquests over the years.

“When the time is right,” Kes says as he gives Poe one last parting hug, “I know it’ll happen. And it’ll knock your socks off.”

* * *

Coming home to be amongst fellow angels is a strange sensation that he’s never ready for. The truth is, he can never stay away from whatever cause Leia’s caught up in for too long. Long ago, it had been the Crusades, then he’d followed her into the world wars (where Poe leaned to fly for the first time without the use of his wings), and he’s been at her side through so many skirmishes that don’t belong to them, but that she’s felt she couldn’t let happen without just a little interference.

She should probably have a dozen reprimands for it, but command loves her as much as the humans around her do. She might be deceptively small in this current vessel, but you’d never know it given how she always feels eight feet tall when she’s talking.

She brings him into the fold of the Resistance and it’s like Poe’s gone back in time to the other conflicts they’ve fought together. He doesn’t intend to win her favor and become the Resistance’s best pilot, but the funny thing is that when you have over a thousand years of flying under your belt, those sorts of things just happen.

When it becomes clear it might look like favoritism got him his spot, he makes sure to spend some extra time getting to know his squadron. It turns out that they’re some of Poe’s favorite people he’s ever met, so it has the benefit of giving him new friends to distract him while he waits for his next assignment – whether in the war or one of heaven’s charges.

“It’s ridiculous,” Jess complains, tugging on his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it out of place and I’ve seen you at the end of a fifteen hour mission and I _know_ you’ve been wearing a helmet the whole time.” She keeps stroking it like he’s a dog or something, and if it didn’t feel so good, Poe might protest.

“Hey, no hoarding Poe’s hair,” Snap protests, sliding his hand into his curls. “Wow, yeah, that’s soft.”

Somehow, this escalates to other parts of his body being touched. Poe’s proud of his vessel, but he thinks that Nien groping his pecs, Karé working on his ass, all while the others still marvel at his hair and make lewd comments, is a little close to idolatry. 

He shamefully loves every second of it.

“Dameron, a word,” Leia says, hiding her amusement given that most of the squadron currently have their hands on his body or hair. She probably thinks this is another example of him initiating an orgy (which happened _one time_ and everyone in society had been doing it; it’s not like there are that many interesting hobbies in Ancient Greece). He hates being pulled away in the middle of squad bonding time, but the look on Leia’s face is the one she gets right before he gets handed a file.

And he has the feeling that this is only marginally Resistance related.

Once he’s escaped his riotous pre-orgy fawning (much to everyone’s disappointment), Leia leads him to her private office, plugging a drive into the system to display above them. “You’ve been skirting around this one for the last dozen incarnations, but they’re finally giving it to you.”

“Really? It’s him?” Poe asks excitedly. 

This is the man whose face he keeps seeing. It’s the man that he’s been dying to meet, if only to find out what incredible purpose he’s meant to serve in the grand scheme of things. It’s been hundreds of year since Poe last saw him, which means that his purpose must be _epic_ and wondrous if he’s still making the rounds until now. With the loss of Shara Bey’s life in recent memory, Poe vows not to screw this one up.

He can’t make a mess of it, if only because it’s _him_ ; it’s Poe’s mystery man that keeps taunting and teasing him.

“What’s his name?” Poe asks, trying to get as much information as he can, but as he peers above him, there’s not much more than a few pieces of information and only the blurriest of pictures to go on.

“You two will have to figure that one out,” Leia says, giving him an encouraging smile. “You’re ready for this, Poe. I know you are.” She leans over until their shoulders are touching, sitting in silence as Poe cranes his neck upwards to read through his assignment details. “I know you feel guilty for losing Shara. Her husband’s a good man and you took your eyes off of her, but it’s not your fault. You were there to guide her, not protect her.”

“He’s a heartbroken man,” Poe says, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “I could’ve prevented that.”

“It’s one of the pitfalls of falling in love. Trust me, I know,” Leia says ruefully.

They don’t often talk about Han Solo, seeing as Leia doesn’t like to admit that a mortal smuggler managed to break her heart. Worse, talking about Han means talking about their son with his Force-sensitivity and part-angelic bearings that have made him a juicy target for those eager to abuse the power he holds at his fingertips. Even Leia, with her experience and her connections, isn’t sure how to get him back on the right path. 

“I guess I just don’t understand how the pain can be worth it.”

“That’s because you’ve never fallen in love,” Leia retorts. 

She says it like it’s something missing from his character. 

“When can I leave?” he asks. 

“I’m showing this to you because I have the feeling you’re going to be multitasking,” Leia says, giving him a firm nod. “We’ve found a map that might lead back to my erstwhile charge and I need you to fly the mission to get it. Reports say that your man’s battalion is positioned close to Jakku, where Lor San Tekka has a piece of the puzzle that leads to Luke.”

He could joke about cleaning up some of her messes, but Poe values his life. Besides, she’s giving him the opportunity to work again. It’s not that he minds a responsibility-free life, but it’s starting to chafe at him. Poe needs purpose back and what better purpose than something that’s been circling him as long as it has.

“Find that map and we can find Luke. It will also give you the opportunity to get close to your charge.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Poe replies, invigorated and ready to work. It’s not going to be like last time, he tells himself. It’s going to be completely different.

* * *

So, Poe’s kind of right. This time _is_ different.

It’s gone so much worse than he could ever have imagined.

Poe returns to the base without his charge, feeling like dirt because not only does he not have Finn, but he’s also lost BB-8 in the process. It’s his second big screw-up in a row, and he has the feeling that their bosses won’t take kindly to a third. He doesn’t get it. How could he have made such a mess of things? He had everything under control, right up until Finn got him so flustered and distracted that he’d taken his hands off the controls and they’d been shot down. He hasn’t been shot down since World War One and someone got a lucky shot in.

“I’m an idiot,” he mutters to himself, but luckily he doesn’t have much time to stew because Leia saves him from more self-flagellation when she drops by to tell him that not only have they found BB-8, but that Finn’s with him.

“This means,” she says, “that I probably can’t fire you today.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” he jokes, suiting up frantically as he revels in the fact that he’s getting a second chance.

When you’ve lived as long as Poe has, time sometimes has a habit of advancing in skips and starts, rushing onward without permission. He flies the rescue mission like it’s child’s play (and it sort of is, because flying an X-Wing is only a tenth as complicated as navigating the air with actual wings and a bow). It’s barely even a challenge anymore, but he’s grateful that he’s got these skills at his disposal because it means they’re able to escort the group back to D’Qar.

 _Finn’s_ back with them. 

The minute they’re both on the ground, Poe doesn’t waste a single second charging towards him and grabbing hold. He doesn’t want to let go of him, but knows there are more pressing issues to cope with – namely, Finn’s bigger purpose in helping to save the galaxy from the destruction already rained down on the Hosnians and to get Rey back for her grander purpose. 

Poe sets his personal issues aside and focuses on his actual job – guarding and guiding Finn to his grander purpose, which means getting him on the ground at Starkiller to save Rey and to save the galaxy.

* * *

Everything is perfect, right up until the moment it all turns wrong. Poe’s adrenaline is higher than he can ever recall with the joy of a successful mission. It’s all smooth sailing until the moment he feels that icy stab in his heart, the tell-tale sign that his charge is hurt. 

Poe nearly crashes his X-Wing into the side of Snap’s, but manages to pull away with the knowledge that Finn’s hurt, but he’s not dead. Snap still bitches at him over the comms about the close call when they’d just escaped, but Poe doesn’t even hear it. He’s trying to remind himself that Finn might be hurt, but he’s not dead.

Back at the base, it’s not the worst prognosis, but it’s far from what Poe’s hoping to hear.

“He’s going to need time,” Dr. Kalonia advises Poe when he keeps hovering. 

Time is something Poe’s usually good at managing. Typically, he’d head off and get himself involved in someone else’s mission – Leia’s or BB-8’s – but so hot on the heels of two failures in a row, Poe’s starting to feel the responsibility of Finn’s life in his hands, making him too fearful to go too far.

He never used to have this many worries, but a first screw-up and a second close-call has forced Poe to face the fact that maybe he’s not as good at his job as he used to be. Maybe he’s losing his touch.

His luck is holding as strong as ever, thankfully. 

It takes two intensive weeks of healing and a medically induced coma, but eventually with a lot of luck, a heaping dose of bacta, and several expertly conducted surgeries, Finn wakes from his slumber with his back stitched in half (and Poe’s stitched-up jacket to match). 

“Hey, buddy,” Poe greets him when Finn’s eyes first flutter open again. “I thought we’d lost you.”

“I just got out of the First Order,” Finn groans, hissing from what Poe is sure is his back protesting being used for the first time in week, “I’m not giving up that easily.”

“Glad to hear it,” Poe replies, suffused with overwhelming gratitude and warmth to know that his mission isn’t over and he’s still got plenty of time ahead of him to protect Finn.

* * *

After everything has died down and Poe’s relaxed from such a close call, he finds that he needs a way to relieve his stress. His usual go-to’s for that involve sex, a long journey of self-discovery, or flying. He rules out sex because he’s already slept with a few people on the base and he’ll start to stir drama if he does it much more.

Leaving isn’t even close to being a possibility, because Leia would have his head. That leaves flying. Poe can already tell that flying in a ship won’t be enough, which means that he’s going to go _properly_ flying. 

Technically, the wings are always there. 

It’s illusion and a rippling of the universe’s fabric that makes it seem like they’re not, but every once in a while, Poe drags them out past the illusion to stretch them out. He does his best to find some privacy when he does because having to explain the whole ‘angel from above’ thing is awkward when the wings are out.

Leia’s had to do it twice when her wings were showing – once with Luke and once with Han – and she’s told Poe that both times had been hard because no one can focus on anything but the wings when they’re in sight. It creates an otherworldly feeling that’s hard to shake. Poe’s been luckier the few times he’s had to explain himself; he’s very persuasive and hasn’t really needed the physical proof to convince people he’s an angel. Those that he tells either believe him right away or humor him.

Flying in the X-Wing is as close as he gets, these days, to the feeling of absolute freedom he feels when he’s in the air, but it’s not the same. He drops his shirt into a crumpled pile on the ground and stretches his arms above his head, unfolding his wings from the little pocket of the universe they’ve been hiding in until he’s got them fully extended, measuring six feet across.

On D’Qar, his wings are fettered grey and black as if half hidden in shadows, translucent in the sunlight. There are other planets where the sun causes them to look immaculately white like the older paintings, and his favorite (by far) is the planet whose kaleidoscope suns had made him look like he glided above the planet on rainbows.

Stretching out the wings after a long period of disuse takes time to become accustomed to again. He spends hours in the air, feeling the wind slide over his face and through his hair, rumpling it like an eager lover. When he lands, he feels happier than he’s been in centuries (and he honestly thinks he needs to start doing this more), though he knows he’s going to pay for it tomorrow when his back is an aching, sore thing.

When his feet touch the ground with a heavy landing, it only takes Poe a few seconds to realize he’s not alone.

On his guard, he steadies himself in the event it’s not a friend who’s come after him. “Who’s there?” he snaps, balling his hand and getting ready to fight. He might be an angel, but that doesn’t mean he can’t brawl with the best of them. “What do you want?”

“I saw you coming out here, I thought I’d follow you and see if you’d let me hang out, seeing as I’m going stir-crazy sitting around the base while people keep telling me to heal.” It’s _Finn_. 

He looks at Poe with wonder and disbelief, a gaping wide-eyed look on his face like he can’t believe the sight in front of him. Poe knows he must look like an old painting – sweaty and shirtless, hair ruffled, ready to fight, and his wingspan shadowing the ground before him.

Poe’s expecting Finn to ask what he is, usually the first question out of a mortal’s mouth the minute they catch sight of an angel’s wings. Another common reaction is a distinct fearful look a person gets when they see his wings for the first time. Instead, Finn just keeps wandering closer and reaches out a hand. “Can I touch them?”

Other than a friendly touch from Leia and a few of the other angels, no one’s touched Poe’s wings in centuries, and certainly not a mortal (definitely not one Poe has sworn to protect). Still, the way his vessel’s heart ramps up is enough to make his decision for him. He nods, wordlessly, and spreads the wings a little broader so Finn can really revel in their true nature.

“You’re an angel? Or just an alien?”

“I’m a guardian angel,” Poe explains, seeing as that topic usually comes up when his charge notices that while they’re ageing and shuffling off the mortal coil, Poe hasn’t changed at all. “I’m _your_ guardian angel, Finn. You were instrumental in helping to take down Starkiller. You saved a lot of lives and you’re going to save more. Upstairs likes to protect people like yo…oh god,” Poe gasps when Finn gets his fingers in between the feathers and drags his blunt nails over them to scratch.

“What, what is it? Am I hurting you?”

Poe _wishes_ this were pain. This is some of the basest pleasure that Poe’s ever felt in his life, radiating from Finn’s fingertips and coursing through Poe’s veins like a lightning bolt.

“No,” he manages to eke out, feeling like no one’s ever touched him like this. He sags forward, his forehead pressed to Finn’s as he keeps exploring through the tucks and folds between the feathers, hugging Poe in the most strange and intimate way he could ever imagine. “Don’t stop.” It might be weakness, but he wants to revel in it forever.

It’s the best feeling in the world, something he’s never felt before.

That should have been the first sign of danger, but Poe is happy to stay obliviously blind if it means Finn will keep touching him like this.

* * *

The key to being a _good_ angel is not falling in love. It’s an unwritten rule because it’s happened so often that they let it slide so long as the angels get the job done. Still, it’s frowned upon and Poe’s been good about following the rule his whole existence. It’s not that he really wants to be a model angel, but he figures if he’s gonna end up breaking the other rules, he should follow some of the important ones.

Poe’s been fallen in love _with_ nearly a hundred times. He’s become very good at The Speech. “You’re a wonderful person, but I’m your guardian angel and I can’t be involved with you like that. You’re beautiful and smart and clever and destined for so much more than me.” He can say it in thirty languages and sign it in five more.

So when Finn starts to look at him with the same bespelled adoration as he’s seen so many times in his life, Poe gets the speech ready.

Except, something strange happens and Poe doesn’t have to say a word. Even though Poe absolutely can tell that Finn is beginning to fall in love with him, he never makes a move like the rest have. Instead, he stays Poe’s best friend and keeps him maddeningly close. Finn stares at Poe like he’s in love with him, but never crosses the line far enough that Poe needs to give the speech. They become best friends and share everything, from food to quarters to jokes to private smiles. They’re intimately close without being intimate, so Poe never gets the chance to give his speech.

Something more dangerous happens because of that, something that’s never happened to Poe before.

He thinks that he’s falling in love and it’s all Finn’s fault.

* * *

His heart quickens at the sight of Finn, his palms sweat, and where he’s usually smooth, he finds himself babbling when Finn cracks a good joke. Leia clearly knows something’s up, but rather than deal with it herself, she sends one of the younger angels to deal with him.

_You’re going to be in trouble if you don’t get your act together._

“BB-8,” Poe sighs, rubbing a palm over his face. “Remind me why you decided to be a droid this time around?”

 _No one cares about the droid! Besides, it’s very easy to steer humans towards one another. Also, no pesky equipment getting in the way_ , BB-8 says, rolling up against Poe’s leg and sticking up one cable that gestures towards Poe’s dick.

“Thanks,” Poe curtly snaps. “Am I on probation?”

_No. Leia says watch yourself or you’ll need to make a decision soon._

The trouble is that Poe’s fairly sure he’s already made his decision. How could this have happened to him? How could he have managed to get himself tangled up with a bona fide hero of the galaxy? 

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on your new charge?” Poe asks when BB-8 is still making rude gestures towards his equipment. “Rey’s going to need a little guidance and I didn’t think you’d want some mortal to take the credit, even if he is a Jedi.”

BB-8 lets loose a string of frustrated whirrs and beeps, but rolls away and leaves Poe in peace. 

“What’s he all fussy about?”

“Finn,” Poe says, startled by his sudden proximity, amazed at how Finn could get so close without Poe even noticing. He tries not to flush, tries to stay cool, but ends up dropping the wrench in his hand, streaking engine oil over his cheek, and leering a little too long at Finn’s ass. “Hey. Hi.”

He is thousands of years old and an angel of the Lord. How the hell is Poe having so much trouble having a simple conversation? Why didn’t any of his families over the years teach him about how to cope with a crush? How is he so _hopeless_?

“Is he okay?”

“What, BB-8?” Poe blinks back to reality to answer Finn’s question. “He’s concerned about me.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with you?”

Finn smiles at him with such easy warmth that Poe’s heart skips a few beats in his chest. “I think I’m falling in love,” he says, the words sounding foreign and strange out loud. He’s never had to say them before. It’s almost exciting, getting to put together new strings of words that he never would have anticipated.

There’s a hopeful look on Finn’s face that’s practically painful and Poe already knows what the next question is. Humans are predictable, when you get down to it. “Yeah?” Finn asks, a touch breathless. “Who’s the lucky girl?” Poe’s not sure if Finn knows whether Poe’s in love with him and is just trying to be modest or if he genuinely has no idea.

“I shouldn’t be falling for anyone, let alone my charge,” Poe says calmly, not intending to leave Finn guessing for a second longer. “I’ve never done this before,” he admits, but his wild heart is trying to leap out of his chest and he thinks that he’s ready to let it.

Finn stares at him with such awe and amazement that Poe knows he’s going to break soon and need to touch him. “Seriously? Me?” 

“You’re leagues better than you think you are, Finn,” Poe promises. “Your fate is incredible. You didn’t just save the galaxy once, but you’re the tipping point of a revolution within the First Order,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief and wondrous amazement. “And I fell in love with all of that. I think that you feel the same about me,” he says cautiously, because he doesn’t want to overstep and find out that he’s been wrong the whole time. “Do you?”

“I never really expected anyone to fall for me, let alone an angel,” Finn admits, stepping a little closer and reaching out to grab hold of Poe’s shoulder, like he might fly away. “I don’t understand how this would work, though. You’re immortal, aren’t you?”

Poe’s speaking before he even considers what he’s about to say: “I don’t have to be.”

It’s like all those idle thoughts for the past few centuries are coming back to haunt him. Maybe this has been a longer time coming than he really understands, but standing here with Finn holding onto him like a lifeline, Poe is starting to understand what he really wants. He wants to dive into this feeling and be in love and let it consume him until it guides his whole life.

He doesn’t want to have to guide Finn, not anymore. Poe wants to be his partner and his equal, to share life and laughter and grief and pain with him.

He wants _everything_ , but he knows the only way he’s going to get it is if he makes a sacrifice.

“I’d do that for you,” Poe says. “For us. I can clip my wings and be with you. We’d just be two human beings, trying to figure out how to have a relationship. No more wings, no more immortality, no more guiding you. It’d be you and me, just us. Do you want that?” He tries not to look like Finn’s answer might crack and break him, but it absolutely has the power to.

In one fell swoop, Finn could break Poe’s heart or make him the happiest angel in existence.

Luckily, Finn’s slow-growing smile is a thing of promise and he moves his hand from Poe’s shoulder to cup his cheek, leaning in for a kiss that feels half-desperate and half-relieved. Poe sinks forward into it, his happiness a bursting thing that he’s never felt like _this_ before.

Thousands and thousands of years are behind him, but not a single one of them fully prepared him for Finn. 

“Okay, then,” Poe exhales, when Finn lets him go. “It’s you and me.”

Which means he’s going to need to talk to Leia and make one of the biggest decisions of his life.

* * *

“Poe, are you sure about this?”

“No,” Poe’s response is instantaneous as he stares down at his hands. There are lines there that will become permanent if he goes down this path; there will come a time when he can’t just will them away or switch vessels. His face will be his face until he ages, gets old, and dies. That’s only if he gets so lucky as to live a long life and die old, with Finn at his side. His time with Kes and Shara is too recent and remind him that no one’s owed any happiness.

Leia’s probably the best person to talk to when it comes to this topic. The trouble is that she’s only somewhat close to it because even though she fell in love, she didn’t choose to sever her wings. She stayed an angel, immortal and guardian, and now with Han gone, she’s bearing the heartbreak, but she has other tasks to focus on and when the time is right, she’ll just switch onto someone new and keep going.

Poe still remembers the heartbreak on Kes’ face as he grieved over Shara. He remembers late night conversations about how all he wanted was someone to grow old with. The thought of not being able to do that with Finn is impossible. Poe’s always been selfish. He wants everything.

“You’ll feel like a human,” Leia warns.

“I’ve always wanted real feelings,” is Poe’s instant reply, unable to help his joking reply despite the serious topic.

“Everything. The good, the bad, the pain, the heartache,” she goes on. “You’re my best guardian, Poe. Is this one man really worth giving up the rest of your long life for?”

“General, I made a mess of things,” Poe’s freely willing to admit it. “I fell in love and _yes_ , he’s worth everything.”

“If you’re really asking me for what I think you are, I’m going to have to sever your wrings,” Leia says, smiling at him as if she’s _proud_ and not disappointed. “It’ll hurt.” 

“I know,” Poe says, steeling himself up for it. “It had to come to an end sometime. I figure, it’s better to give up my immortality now, for love, rather than let it drag me down into bitterness a long way away or screw up so badly that they’re taken by force.”

Leia seems to consider it for a long moment, shaking her head. “I hate to lose you, kid, but I know all too well how the heart works. Go. Stay with Finn and I’ll cut the wings tonight when you’re with him. You’re gonna need a little physical and moral support.” 

The reality of what Poe’s done takes time to sink in. By the time he gets back to his bunk, it’s all starting to seem _real_. He crawls into the bed beside Finn, kissing a path up his chest and neck until he reaches his lips. He’s half shaking with anticipation and worry at this point, and he’s pretty sure that those vibrations wake Finn from his nap. 

While Finn stares blearily at him with a curious look in his eye, all Poe feels is eager hope. “I did it,” he reports. “She’s gonna clip the wings.” 

“Does that actually mean Leia’s gonna show up with a pair of scissors?” Finn asks, clearly still half-asleep. The mental image it conjures is definitely enough to lighten the mood, but Poe remembers enough stories from fallen angels to know the severity of what’s going to happen.

Poe curls into Finn’s welcoming arms, trying to ignore the worry about when it’s going to happen and how badly it’ll hurt. 

“Talk to me,” he coaxes. “Distract me, or all I’m gonna do is think about how bad this could possibly hurt.”

Finn shifts their bodies so he can sit up a little, allowing his free hand to absently stroke Poe’s hip as he fights off his post-nap yawns. “The first thing I want to do is have you fly me to all the places you’ve seen before. I want the grand tour of Poe’s people. And then, somewhere in there, we’re gonna have ridiculous sex because I know you’ve had a lot of it and I’m not a virgin, but I have the feeling you could teach me a thing or two.”

He’s absolutely right, but it’s not something Poe intends to comment on. 

“And then we’re probably gonna have fights. Threepio told me about how Han and Leia fought, so I think maybe we’ll do some of that. Maybe you’ll miss being an angel or I’ll feel really mortal and insignificant compared to your experiences,” Finn goes on, and Poe grabs hold of him a little tighter at the thought of giving all this up for it to end badly, “but you know what? I’m gonna make this work and I know you are too.”

“Yeah? How’re you so sure?” Poe teases. 

“Because I love you,” Finn says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “And for the first time, you love someone back and it’s me.”

Poe opens his mouth to say those three perfect and amazing words in a way he never has before, but he can’t get them out because he’s accosted with a blinding pain at his back, like he’s being stabbed with a hundred tiny little daggers working their way up his shoulder blades.

“Poe?” Finn shouts in alarm when Poe lets out a deafening cry of pain. “What is it?”

“I think it’s happening,” he grinds out past his teeth, writhing with spasms of pain. It’s an onslaught he’s been expecting, but that still doesn’t help seeing as it’s the most painful thing he’s ever experienced. He digs his fingernails into Finn’s skin, not even thinking about the pain he might be causing. Eventually, the sharp pains dull and slowly (too slowly) fade. Finn is still trying to talk him through it, but Poe’s whole world has gone blurry and his hearing tinny. 

When it comes into focus again, it’s brighter than before. It smells better and everything looks magnified in color and texture, like he’s never really seen the world properly. He grabs hold of Finn and stares at him, really seeing him for the first time. He marvels at the slide of his nose and the color of his eyes, not to mention the adoration and softness on his face when he looks at Poe. 

“I think I’m human,” he says, touching every part of Finn he can to note the difference at his fingertips. “She did it. She clipped my wings.”

“Man, Jess is gonna be pissed,” Finn says, eyes roving over Poe’s face.

“What?” Poe can’t even begin to understand why or what the hell Finn is wasting time talking about Jess for.

“Looks like the hair isn’t an angel thing,” Finn says, his grin building, “it’s still as perfect as ever.” 

“I think we need to mess it up for a true test,” Poe says, keeping a straight face the whole time he says it, even if he wants so badly to meet Finn’s enthusiasm watt for watt. “Feel up for it?”

“Hell, yeah,” Finn agrees, yanking Poe on top of him.

* * *

Sometimes, Poe wonders if Leia hasn’t pulled a few strings to make sure that he and Finn both get a new guardian angel to lead them through life. It’s either that or they’re both immensely lucky to have lived such long lives, surviving the battles and seeing peace restored to the galaxy. 

Poe isn’t sure he ever gets used to ageing without being able to turn the clock back. For years, every grey hair discovered had been a trauma until Finn had pulled him close to kiss him firmly, telling Poe how much they turned him on. 

Even now, in the last breaths of his life and with Finn already having taken this journey to the afterlife before him, Poe wonders at his luck of getting to grow old with Finn, sharing every single awful and wonderful moment of their too-short lives.

However lucky they are, though, it can’t last forever. Not that Poe wants it to, either, seeing as he’s already mourned Finn and got the unlucky chance to understand some of what Kes had felt when he’d lost Shara.

Poe’s surrounded by happy family as his last moments of life slowly ebb away from him. Some are adopted family, others by blood and while he knows it’ll be painful to them to watch him go, Poe couldn’t be prouder that they’re the last people he’ll ever see. He smiles lovingly at them when his breathing grows more labored.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m just taking another trip above the ground, this time to see Finn.”

He gets out last ‘I love yous’ before he feels his life’s energy escaping away from him, a strange new feeling he had never understood quite so closely before. In his last moments, he has the awareness of mind to marvel at how incredible it is to know all the good he’s done and that he’s finally due for some respite. And then, like it’s nothing at all, Poe breathes one last time and slips into the darkness.

He’s not sure what to expect of the emptiness after. Occasionally, Poe’s been taken off guardian duty to be the greeting committee, so he knows what it’s like being upstairs when someone comes in for the first time, but he’s never taken the trip from this departure point before.

Not until now, at least.

When the darkness clears, Poe feels like a princess in an old fairytale waking up to see her prince. Right there, leaning above him, is Finn with a boyishly excited look on his face. He looks the way he did when Poe first met him, and in the space of a second, Poe’s pushing upwards to wrap his arms around the man like the first time they embraced, kissing him so hard that he actually ends up pushing him upwards as Poe chases after him, getting his clothes properly disheveled and a hand down his pants.

“Poe, not in my office.” There’s that same wry, adoring voice he should have expected, seeing as he’s definitely trying to give Finn a handjob in Leia’s office.

“General,” Poe greets when he eases back from where he’s been sucking a hickey into Finn’s neck, not even blushing when he gets in Leia’s sightlines. He’d lost the ability to feel shame in front of her a long time ago. “What’s going on?”

“You were always my best angel, but never the best reader,” she says, digging out his old job contract from millennia ago. “You should’ve read the fine print.”

Poe leaves the twenty-pound contract alone, turning to Finn instead seeing as Finn’s wearing that smirk that says he knows something Poe doesn’t. “What’s she talking about?”

“Even though you clipped your wings, you signed on for a term. You’re still in her service and now that you’re back up here, the wings go back until the terms of your agreement come to an end,” Finn explains with a fond smile on his face. “Lucky for you, I just signed on for the exact same amount of time. I had a really persuasive angel show me the benefits of guiding people to be their best.”

Poe gapes at Finn for a moment before he turns his attention to Leia and her smirk. “You knew this when you clipped my wings,” he accuses.

“I didn’t think reminding you that upon dying, your service would resume would help the romantic mood,” Leia responds, two files in her hands. “However, I’m more than happy to have you back. If you want, you can pick a new vessel or you can go in for a refresh.” She hands one thick folder to Poe, then the other much slimmer volume to Finn. “New assignments. Poe, you’ve got more experience than most of my training officers. Train Finn,” she says. She gives them both a fond smile and a last nod. “And don’t make a mess in my office. You have rooms for that.”

Poe waits for the door to click shut before he trusts himself to look at Finn again, clutching the folder in his hands tightly, like he’s not entirely sure he believes this is happening.  
“She’s a good boss,” Poe says, because shop-talk seems like the safest thing right now.

He hasn’t actually seen Finn in weeks, not since a nasty infection had taken Finn from him, and Poe’s happy to stare at him like he won’t get the opportunity to do it again, even though he knows they have eternity together. And how about that? Not only did they get a lifetime to fall in love and be together, but they get the rest of eternity for it, too. 

“Poe, I really don’t want to talk about work,” Finn says, sliding his hand up and down Poe’s back. “I missed you like crazy.”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

“You’re right, that’s way too long,” Finn agrees and slides both hands down to grope Poe’s ass, hauling their bodies flush against one another. It’s not as bright and vivid as it had been when Poe was mortal and everything was finite, but it’s still better than not having it at all. 

“I think maybe you’re happy to see me,” Poe comments, a low and seductive hint in his voice when he feels the press of Finn’s cock against his hip. “Only, I’ve known Leia of thousands of years and she’s not kidding about the mess in her office.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Finn says, practically bouncing eagerly, “That means I get to make a mess of you in our new home. C’mon. I’ll give you the tour.” 

It sounds like heaven to Poe, but then again, that’s basically their home address for the foreseeable eternity.

* * *

Finn’s wings are sleek grey things that block out the sun when expanded fully. They sparkle like stardust when the moonlight cascades off them and feel like the softest down against his fingers. Ever since he first showed them off, Poe hasn’t been able to stop touching them. 

“You know you don’t have to keep that body just because you wore it once,” Poe says, fingers tangled and buried in the feathers. “You could move on.” As if Poe hasn’t taken on the same vessel he’s had for thousands of years, with perfectly curling dark hair and an easy smile, and the face that Finn fell in love with.

“This is how I looked when I fell in love with you,” is Finn’s easy reply. “I wouldn’t change a hair.”

Those wings surround Poe and protect him from the world – even though it’s usually Poe who’s doing the guarding and protecting – and he buries his grin into the gleaming wings that glint and shine with possibility.

Poe could spend the next two centuries like this and it wouldn’t be enough.

Luckily, they’ve got eternity together at their fingertips.

**Author's Note:**

> [Much revelry happen on tumblr](http://andrea-lyn.tumblr.com/). I mean, it's mostly Oscar Isaac pictures and weird rambling, but there's revelry in there too.


End file.
